First of all, everything was ruined for me very early this morning when I was lying awake Thinking I was Going to Throw Up on Myself, and I realized that all things in life lead back to Tupac Songs. The reason I realized this was because Tupac songs kept playing. A Sigur Ros song would play, then Tupac, then Bright Eyes, then Tupac, then Of Montreal, then Tupac. I was trying to explain desperately to Danny that everything led back to Tupac, but all Danny wanted to do is Snore and say "Uh-huh." Danny, maybe you are bitter because I bit half of your lip off. I do not remember this happening, but I remember Bailey screaming "oh my god oh my god" and Danny spitting up a lot of blood into the sink. Also, the bathroom was flooded. I sort of remember a piece of Danny's lip being in my mouth. Whoops! Will someone please tell me why the bathroom was flooded? If you keep going South on Alternate 19 passed scientology and before the road with the large McDonalds you can find what I am about to tell you about. We made a road trip in twelve hours and figured we had nothing left to lose. There was a house and it was abandoned, we had been warned about abandoned houses from our time spent in Safety Harbor and everytime we sang "With Arms Outstretched." I know you know the days I am talking about, whether you acted on them or thought upon them, I'm sure they got you nowhere, too. Everyone (everyone being more than one person in any situation) asked us why we were skipping out on our own lives. We had just decided it was in our best interest to flee the scene. We knew the roads well on our side of Florida. We did not understand Florida without strip malls or oceans. We did not understand the day in Florida with cows and farmhouses, with hills and lakes. We had salt water for our wounds and convenient stores for our souls. You may have had clear skies, but we need you to know that we had tourism. All the roads connect to each other. You will pass ten inches of land where you will think everyone is poor. It will pass, like everything. There will be hotels and screaming ladies, and we will make jokes about Jesus Christ. She can quote the bible, it would make you laugh. And if you're feeling sad, I will capitalize it for you. It's not an allegory, but it could be tomorrow. What I am trying to tell you is, you have the wrong girls. I know what you're thinking about "malicious intent" and "homewreckers" but you've got the wrong girls. Half of our lives we just didn't know any better and the other half of the time, you don't want to understand. But we are not those people, we are not those people that you see on the street. That's us there, but there's nothing. “dear livejournal we were counting our money and we wanted you count your money with us, "you better count your money, you better count your money, you better count your money" x50
I .What I really wanted for breakfast was an orgasm but instead I'm on my second iced latte. Happy Bad Decisions Month!
I will try not to sleep with your boyfriend.
II. for a while I really cared about hurricanes then I just started fucking idiots. It becomes evident when it becomes fall especially if you have no fall. Keep a strong focus on 2005 and 2006 and remember that we were never kidding.
III. Archives Part One
I am rewarding myself with One Livejournal Entry. I've been giving myself a lot of rewards today, for good behavior/emotional breakdown. I was going to say it all when I came home this morning; except I came home drunk. Drunk from our life of fake boyfriends and fake manners. I wish that I could tell this to you in chronological order, but chronological order is not part of my life.
This is how my diet life has gone
yesterday:
two slices of pizza from california pizza kitchen
half bottle of whiskey
today:
strawberry milkshake
piece of bread from sandwich
48 oz regular coke
Today at work everyone asked me why I was covered in bruises and why I had hickies on my neck, they then proceeded to be mean to me and talk to me like I was retarded. I of course let them, it is not my fault that I have not worked as a Beauty Consultant for five years. Maybe I will start lying and saying "when i grow up I want to be a Hairdresser," I already lie and say "when i grow up I want to be a dental hygenist."
I do not know how I have suddenly become a fifteen year old girl, but that is how I feel, I feel like I Am Throwing Glasses Against the Wall. That actually happened too, why did that happen? I do not remember this happening. I remember there being glass on the floor this morning, and the bathroom was not flooded anymore. Bailey and I have learned that sleeping in beds with twins is good for your heart, and bad for your hair. And we all know where our priorities lie.
1. Bailey and I on highway 666
2. Semi-skinny dipping in the gulf of mexico at 4 AM
3. Thinking intense thoughts about exorcisms while walking into my house with all the lights off
4. Doing all of this when I have to work 11 hours today also: danny dropping classes
7. Bailey running two red lights
6. 6 AM bedtime, 10:30 Wake up call
yesterday's bad decisions:
1. not doing sit ups before bedtime; listening to rap music instead
2. jumping in puddles fully clothed w.neighbors
3. arguing/name calling until two in the morning
today's bad decisions
1. sleeping in until 11:30
2. seeing "The Exorcism of Emily Rose," in the middle of the day- affirming that I will be completely terrified for the rest of the day/night/weekend/week/bad decisions month. I was quite upset by the whole thing, some people walked out but I am not brave enough to walk out during horror films as it is a guarantee that you will offend demons &they will you in your sleep etc.
"Don't you have places to be, don't you have school?"
It's summer
"Don't you have jobs?"
We have all of our lives to get jobs, it's summer
"Must be nice to think like that"
It's alright, yeah, it's nice
"Kids are so goddamn privelaged"
We used to be painters, before we were children
"Are you on drugs?"
No.
"I used to talk like that when I was on drugs."
Sir, I bet you say that to everyone
"Everyone? Now why would I say that to everyone?"
I know you'll reason with me that there was history, that there was more than this. That there were four hurricanes last year and I am overreacting, and besides you can hit "delete" like a man, or a phone or a song that I only heard when I was in England. I'll find out that the Crown Jewels are actually crowns, and I'll walk too fast through all the wrong places.
Someone will be standing there, screaming for money, and I'll be sprinting because there was a sale to save lives for half the cost, on the other side of town, where it was no longer summer.
my dog was lost (Clearwater Public Library)
2) I'm tired &there are teenagers at the door talking to my father?? I cant see what they look like but they are holding bottles of mountain dew &I would like some mountain dew
3) Tonight should consist of so much driving, except for me not having any gas- following the theme of Florida &Hurricanes. Hurricanes are so much more disappointing than I ever expected &I have the Dawson's Creek Hurricane Episode to thank. ugh.in your shell where you belong
It passes through a woman in a bar, it pretends to be a hurricane, teaches us to read &gets a twenty percent discount. There are citizens singing on the sidelines they are saying "where is my baby", and we are wondering if this is rehearsed. Where is the chorus line, Ma? Is there a piano on stage right? Stage right and stage left reflect the actors perspective dear, not the audience- now straighten your soldiers &breathe from your diaphram (it says). It passes through some sadness, stops to say "good bye" we mimic but it is not satisfied- no say it like this- so we try again &again. We end up trying for the rest of our lives to get the words out right. With our mothers in their hospitals, our mothers in their SUV's, our mothers in their graves, our mothers on their airplanes (flying away to set it right) our mothers drinking their gin &tonics, our mothers talking like men, our mothers raising us &our father's slapping us &then our mothers fleeing the scene time &time again raising their eyebrows as if to say "Get out while you still can, child". All the songs were overplayed so it turned off our radios, it closed our schools &said "I'm just pretending". It passes through a woman in a bar, flips over four cars &likes to watch television. With blood &rags &barbed wire lips we are all kissing on the mouths, victims laying in the streets &schools on fire from the inside, love made it all go wrong &she'll board an airplane like she could ever make it right.146: LOL (location Kent, Ohio)
I'm looking for attention; so come dig me out.
In short, I should have left with them.
1. recieved $800 phone bill from time spent in Europe
2. purchased matching cupcake necklaces with heather michelle
3. i know you are but what am I
4. convinced heather to apply for the victoria secret credit card, the sales lady looked at me and said "you have one dont you?"
5. deciding to neglect all of our friends to have a sleep over. age thirteen, welcome back.
VoicePost 
1000K 4:55
various rapping from various man
"woah nelly"... i am still listening but now i'm going to comment.”
Transcribed by: ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
hatsuchi
From the time I was eight until the time I was fourteen my parents and myself (no siblings, no pets) would spend a week in North Carolina, or Virginia or anywhere where there are mountains. Once in Fontana, once eating boiled peanuts. We would always stay in some secluded cabin, in the middle of nowhere and while we walked I would imagine a bear jumping out &eating all of my insidies while my father tried to fight to save the family. When I would lay in my mountain bed at night, I would think "this is how things should have ended up, I should have grown up here." And I would imagine my life in one of those towns, population three hundred, so my boyfriend could pick me up in his pickup, drive me to the tasty-freeze &let me wear his jacket.
I always had this fixation of some life that I was missing, some perfect town on the other side of the country (Nebraska playing on repeat) that I of course, was missing out on.
I know deep down that has to be a huge reason why I moved back to Ohio the week after I graduated highschool. So I could set up my life the way I thought it should be. And there it was Kent State University, a place so paralyzed by the May 4th Massacre that the students still walked around like there were bullets flying. I sat in my dorm room, looking out the huge windows, staring at my American Politics note, knowing that this was exactly how life was supposed to be. All my new friends would take me on drives through these little towns (with only one restaurant, only one donut shoppe) and someone would tell me about a factory that used to be there- sometimes, but not always there would be these big signs hand painted "THE MAN STOLE OUR JOBS," or "GIVE THE WORK BACK TO THE PEOPLE." I was fixated, flat out obsessed.
My cousin Michael, who was my best friend at the time, helped me convince my uncle to take us to one of his friends home two hours south of Cuyahoga county- we spent the weekend behind the bar drinking beer out of cans &liquor out of mason jars, feeding Jefro the donkey &watching people play "Cow Bingo,"- don't ask, I mean really don't ask.
But the funny thing about all of this was, this culture of the working class that I had become so obsessed with was something that everyone I met was trying so hard to escape. Beautiful blue eyed boys would sit at the corner of my bed while we laid there, watching the snow fall &they'd ask with so much sincerity "Daniela, why would you ever leave Florida?" me- I had no idea where to start answering, with my long speech of "No one is really from Florida the whole state is completely transient, it's not Disneyworld- it's not like you think," but sometimes, I'd shut up, I'd shut up like it was the first day I had ever worn a winter coat and I would look them- I would look at them born and raised here, bleeding to death outside of the hill I could see so clearly from my spot in a self made coffin, and I would smile at them, at whoever was sitting there- take their hands into my hands and I would say, "well, I don't know."
Things didnt stay like that at Kent State University, before we fled for California before we ran back home, there was a series of third nostrils, of stomach ulcers, "the university's quiet today, we didnt clean we just talked in the bathroom," and all the songs hit too close to the heart- with the snow falling out the window &me explaining to anyone that would listen "I am freezing to death! I am freezing," and our professors, who we thought were our lovers, drunk on somebody elses bourbon, banging down our door. Then, then you cannot remember, no you cannot remember why you drove to a town to read a sign about an emotion you once felt.
Tin soldiers and Nixon's comin, we're finally on our own this summer I hear the drummin, Four Dead in Ohio I know this is true because I've asked, but when our parents dropped us off on campus they all sang this song at some point- to remind us that we did not remember 1970 and we never would. I don't think mine knew that they were spilling out self-fullfiling propechy to me, but they should have, because here we are, back from there, stuck on the beach all over again.
Everywhere you go they are talking like it's the center of the universe, they are kissing like they've created and goddamnit just let them. When you are driving in your car, when you are flying on your plane &you see all of these people around them &you realize "I will never know all of these people, they all have their own lives, I will never know about it." My grandmother used to tell me, in italian- never english, "remember, Daniela, today is the worst day of somebody's life," and I would nod, because hell, hell, hell- of course it is.
So yes, I too, am moving to New York City because it now too, just seems like another right of passage. One of my olf boyfriends used to tell me how amazing it would be if we jsut went, how I would love it, and I would shake my head, "that's what everybody does." And so it is, because that's what it's like now- you spend your obligatory summers &semesters in Europe- I stand next to Stonehenge and let someone take my picture, I attempt to drown myself in the Roman baths "heal me water- heal me" I walk through the ruins of Pompeii and I stopped to buy an ice cream cone- and I talk to my friends half way across the country, who are auditioning for The Real World, because we already have a drivers license and we've already been to all those cities and hey are you listening to me- it still doesnt feel surreal enough- it still feels too much like my life, it still feels like I am laying in my bed age thirteen cursing God or whoever else, saying "WHEN I GROW UP," oh you just wait- when I grow up. i've been less &i've been more
September started.
Wandered with Gregg and Octavio into a church on Havemeyer that has a large collection of Patron Saints. You could light a votive candle for $1 and say a prayer, but the candles werent real, instead, you pressed a button and a light came on. I did it anyway. Put the dollar in, pressed the button, said a prayer. I dipped my fingers into holy water, I really know how to make the sign of the cross. So I said I prayer to God and the gods of bad decisions month. I've been biting my lip too hard; my head hurts.
I'm allergic to cats but I've been petting them all week. I think they can tell, I will sit in a room and theyll jump into my lap as if to say, "just deal with it." There is a big barbeque in Dollywood as of September 14th. I am allergic to barbeque sauce also, but maybe not in Tennessee.
I dont think that Rufus feels bad for Chuck but maybe he does. I don't know what the package is, and you probably do not know what I am talking about.
I miss Johnny 99 and even Arthur Dexter Bradley. I miss breaking the law; or having rules to break. What are you supposed to do when there are no responsibilities and no obligations? No babies with palindrome names to feed, to quiet. No mothers to come home to, someitme before 3 AM. Instead it is just us, here, acting as if we have finally called it quits.
My head still hurts. I want to go for a car ride. I like a boy, day two. Laura and I had grilled cheese sandwiches for supper but I forgot to tell her about it. I will tell Tanya. My cycle of female best friends, all complete with names ending in vowels. Y will have to be a vowel like in the Letter People. In tradition of Terrace Hall Revival Meetings, we are also going to be millionaires by midnight. I wish I could tell you more, internet, but like everything else this is one big stupid secret.
September 2nd, I have a new bedroom. In the same apartment. It is so big, do you see the 3 windows?
http://public.fotki.com/ohadhominem/2007/september-bad-decis/day-1/
(great hair)
coonfire
st.therese
the most comfortable bed in the world. there is nothing i love more than collapsing onto a pile of cold, clean white sheets
do u like my room
moving is a mess
oprah
country love record. so good.
i collect heart necklaces (owls, virgin marys)
i want my room to look like 1962/time travelling/french brothel
it will look so much better in one week. i promise. flowered wallpaper. more cracked mirrors. lingerie collection. cigarette holder. nyc city condoms. a down comforter.
i have 2 bottles red wine
1 bottle hairspray
i don't feel like being a human.
problem #1 i don't feel like being a human
problem #2 i will take care of it tomorrow
problem #3 my hair
they should be in reverse order. someone tried to break into our building. tomorrow morning i'll be hungover, maybe? construction across the street starts early/i sleep through nothing. fashion week?
the piece of glass in my hand doesnt hurt too bad except i keep taking my finger and pressing down on it. it is in the very center of my palm, right above my life line.
tomorrow lets paint the apartment. my room is half french brothel. by monday, september 10th, it will be a complete french brothel.
i don't know what shoes to wear. "open bar"
maybe i can meet a palm reader. i have met them many times before, but this time it will be different. this time they will have so much to say.
IV.
I've been down hearted baby, ever since the day we met.
V.
........................................
![[protected post]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/icon_protected.gif){kind=icon}
I have a head cold. A sore throat. A stuffy nose.
true feelings
the afternoon
the weather systems
should i get up and turn on the air conditioner
I wake up sprawled on the floor, lying on my travel pillow which I purchased for twenty-five dollars by advice of chiropractor. "I don't think you're really in the position not to take my advice, Daniela" this is what Dr.Calluci tells me, and because I've been waiting for an hour and a half among the elderly I say, "Dr.Calluci, just wondering, are you like-- an actual medical doctor?"
I buy the pillow anyway.
On the floor of the airport I sit up and I am immediately handed a pamphlet about Jesus Christ. This seems appropriate enough: the sun is shining brightly in my face, the wind is not blowing in my hair.
My arm is really banged up and because this is not New York City everyone asks over and over again "what happened to your arm?"
A boy who could be my age, but is probably younger asks me "Are you afraid of flying?"
Of course. I tell him. Not scared at all. I want to say that I love airports that I am in my element, that I could be anyone but instead I do not say what happened to my arm I say "I cannot handle the take offs and landings"
I wake up sprawled on the floor and suddenly I am taking a shit ton of Percocet with missionaries who are on their way to Peru.I let them tell me about God and I mainly not my head, I stop to say "I really only believe in the Blessed Virgin" and they note that I am not speaking of myself and keep going.
"Why are you going to Peru? Can't you just leave those people alone?" I don't know if they give me a real answer but their backpacks are filled as if they were going to go film Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas not Jesus Camp: The Sequel
Once I let my friend Jesse borrow the book White Noise and she read it on a flight with her mother on their way to Costa Rica, a missionary vomitted on her and all over the book something like fifteen minutes after take off.
We are not sure if this actually means anything, but we write it down anyway. Just in case. Just in case the police come storming in and ask for an account so I can "well here it happened like this officers, I have it on this sheet of paper"
but even the police man, the private would ask me from the door frame
"what happened to your arm?"
There are times in life where you start settling and truly, I have no idea why. I either want to say "hurry up and get it over with" or "chill the fuck out man and let your guard down" I believe in purgatory, naturally, of course, but I've never been a fan of limbo and the authorities, the missionaries, the men with missing jaws-- none of them can tell me that there is any difference.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The other day we drove in a car Nick, Ashley, Autumn, Aaron and myself and tried to find a place called "Amelia Island" we ended up at Fort DeSoto and it was completely deserted, all you could see was sand and water and some grass and an occasional bicycle going by. At first we just stood there. Then Nick waded in. That ashley said it wasnt so cold. Then I collapsed like the the earth was begging me to and then I wanted to take off all of my clothes. I have never swam naked in the ocean, i have gone bras and panties in the night, but I have never been truly naked during the day in the water. So I stripped off. Autumn, who goes to an all girls school in Roanoke, which I believe is called Roanoke, held my bra in my hand for me while I touched my own breasts in the water. I kept saying to everyone "we have to do this now because this is beautiful" there was a sense of urgency but still a sense of panic. There is always a sense of panic like "what if I can never do this again?" It's not a question of whether I'll ever come back to the ocean, but whether the ocean will ever come back.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the car Autumn, who has her masters or is working on her Masters or something about Psychology diagnosis everyone. Ashley takes a drag off of her Newports even though she is enraged that I handed her the wrong pack "Newport Lights" we didn't even know they existed.
"THESE PROBABLY DONT EVEN HAVE FIBERGLASS IN THEM"
I apologize, smoke one myself, cant inhale but figure that she's wrong and they probably do.
Then Ashley says "well Daniela, we diagnosed you already last night."
Oh do tell
"We diagnosed you with HPD"
like HPV?
"No HPD"
What's HPD? Why did you diagnose me? What the fuck?
Autumn has either printed this out or is maybe reading it from her phone but then she explains to me that if she was my doctor she would diagnose me with "Histrionic Personality Disorder"
I say from the backseat, half glaring at Nick because he was born, "I don't think I have any kind of disorder.
Autumn begins reading:
Histrionic personality disorder (HPD) is defined by the American Psychiatric Association as a personality disorder characterized by a pattern of excessive emotionality and attention-seeking, including an excessive need for approval and inappropriate seductiveness, usually beginning in early adulthood.
The essential feature of histrionic personality disorder is an excessive pattern of emotionality and attention-seeking behavior. These individuals are lively, dramatic, enthusiastic, and flirtatious. They may be inappropriately sexually provocative, express strong emotions with an impressionistic style, and be easily influenced by others.
People with this disorder are usually able to function at a high level and can be successful socially and professionally. People with histrionic personality disorder usually have good social skills, but they tend to use these skills to manipulate other people and become the center of attention. [1] Furthermore, histrionic personality disorder may affect a person's social or romantic relationships or their ability to cope with losses or failures. People with this disorder may seek treatment for depression when romantic relationships end, although this is by no means a feature exclusive to this disorder. They often fail to see their own personal situation realistically, instead tending to dramatize and exaggerate their difficulties. They may go through frequent job changes, as they become easily bored and have trouble dealing with frustration. Because they tend to crave novelty and excitement, they may place themselves in risky situations.
She finishes reading and everyone in the car just nods their heads. "I have never even heard of this! Everything cannot just be a disorder. Having a personality is a disorder"
I put on lipstick. I stare out at the ocean. I wake up days later and the missionaries from Peru diagnose me with hell and slip a white pill in my mouth.
I pack when I get home. I unpack even though it's been dark for hours.
Before bed, or during bed, I fall asleep with my glasses on. All this time I thought I only suffered from terminal uniqueness. I am back in New York. No one asks what happened to my arm, and if I told the truth would they even believe me?
"someone cut me with a butter knife"
I'm not sure. The pamphlet about Christ is at the bedside table. I cannot keep my eyes open. I didn't get a sunburn.
SYMPTOMS:
The symptoms include:
* Constant seeking of reassurance or approval.
* Excessive dramatics with exaggerated displays of emotions.
* Excessive sensitivity to criticism or disapproval.
* Inappropriately seductive appearance or behavior.
* Excessive concern with physical appearance.
* A need to be the center of attention (self-centeredness).
* Low tolerance for frustration or delayed gratification.
* Rapidly shifting emotional states that may appear shallow to others.
* Opinions are easily influenced by other people, but difficult to back up with details.
* Tendency to believe that relationships are more intimate than they actually are.
* Making rash decisions.
and the clothes go
Life Advice:
Arnold
Amy
Mnemonic
A mnemonic that can be used to remember the criteria for histrionic personality disorder is PRAISE ME:[8][9]
* P - provocative (or seductive) behavior
* R - relationships, considered more intimate than they are
* A - attention, must be at center of
* I - influenced easily
* S - speech (style) - wants to impress, lacks detail
* E - emotional lability, shallowness
* M - make-up - physical appearance used to draw attention to self
* E - exaggerated emotions - theatrical
I put my bra on, the cat vomits in the corner.
I take the train back but just to read. New York feels like the biggest place in the world; the smallest planet on the block. The four girls across from me are best friends. They just got boobs. They say to me "hey mami, your white boots is ugly" and I nod my head in agreement. They laugh about other things, rowdy with their hair slicked back to one side. They are louder than everyone else and I wonder why they wear their jeans like that. For a moment I cannot remember what it is like to be fourteen, I cannot remember what it is like to write a name in hearts or to cry because of a pair of shoes I needed and could not have.
The moment passes and I remember again exactly what it is like. I watch them, feeling I am allowed to stare now that they made fun of me. They won't look back again, maybe there is something about my face that says I'd make fun of their shoe laces. Perhaps I would if the mood struck me, but really the truth is, I am just jealous of it. I want to sit next to them. I want to ask if i can be the fifth member. I will tell them what it's like to have tits, I will throw insults at the other passengers. I will lie to them, like no one lied to me and I will say "it will get worse before it gets better." They would not believe me, just like I did not believe anyone.
When I come home it's a saturday but it feels like a Sunday. I want to kill my roommate because there are always dishes in the sink and I cannot stand to look at them. I don't understand why she cannot mop the floors. I say it loud in different ways: to her face, right here, through text messages, screaming from the bathroom. I sound like one of my relatives who has gone mad because they see dust, because there is hair in the sink.
Midterms will come and I'l make decisions. I know how to drive the car still. I know still that it is up to me. I will not walk around that block with a phone in my hand and the tears clogging up all of the parts that make it work. I don't understand how phones work especially without wires. I guess it makes no difference. If Alexander Graham Belle was here, he'd break up with me. He'd tell me he wanted me long distance or that I was the wrong kind of text message. I'd tell him he's gone mad, phones could never work without me.
I think about the library in this romantic way. I have a stack of paper clips, a stack of magazines, e-mails to return and I must put on heels because I've promised to dance with you in that manner.
The reason I cant be good at this --- well part of this-- is because I want to take naps but don't have the ability to take them.
I have been woken up different ways in my life. It tells you a lot about a person-- the way they reach for your body. Sometimes I am nudged awake like I am a dog, but not a dog you love that much, kind of with a little kick like this is a bother. And then other times I am cradled back into consciencse like a baby or an angell or a girl who is too tired to type anymore but it is ready to open her eyes.
The cat throws up &my boots is ugly.
"Have your coffee and stop your crying," my alarm goes off and I say this to myself like I am a strict mother giving a proper scolding. I've made the bed before I am barely even out of it. "I believe it was just the dreams, I believe it is just the weather."
Yesterday my roommate cried in the kitchen so I gave her a hug and used my fingers to wipe away her tears. I don't like to get like that in front of anyone and it's funny, because I can usually only cry late at night or early in the morning. I feel like it's daylight savings time. It's like I let myself relax enough in my sleep that something goes through the surface.
So this morning, upon rising, I burst into tears. I put my head in my hands and I take my hair down. There is water next to the bed. I drink it slowly as if something has actually happened, as if this is a reaction.
"Make your bed. Get dressed. Get a hold of yourself."
If anyone who loved me, or did not love me, was here they would say "enough with the theatrics, Daniela," they would say "is there a reason to be this dramatic right now?" I do it in front of no one. Wash my own face. I think the last thing I said to him was that I wish I needed nothing just like the story in the book.
I put "Sodom, South Georgia" on the record player because I've learned how to move my finger to the line. all dead white boys say God is good. White tongues hang out. God is good. I want to talk to Jackson but I can't feel where he is these days. You know how sometimes you can tell with a person? You can feel it with them and you can tell? I can't tell. I can't tell and I should have given him (and many other things) up for Lent.
I don't know how this happens to me constantly in New York City, but I don't own an umbrella again. I have the proper boots now. The proper stride. I can look straight ahead, but I don't know what I've done with the umbrellas. The subject line refers to chickens. Once I met a man and he loved penguins. I believe it is evident in a woman's face if she rode horses when she was a girl.
And here we go again we are back to my thoughts that don't come as thinks it is only "I feel" or "I believe" suddenly it is not "I think" or "I know" Suddenly I am telling strangers what I feel about their fingers. I put "Coxcomb Red" on the record player because once, a boy who kissed me in a dorm got me high and then got me into the band Songs: Ohia. I could see the May 4th Memorial from out the bedroom window and at any moment where I could see a massacre, I felt like things were meant to be. He told me the song reminded him me, and because I was eighteen, I did not believe him. Now that is the only compliment. You'd think it be different, that I would have trusted more than. But later on in cars with men and boys listening to the radio or complaining about a tape deck, I learned the reason all music had ever been written.
Just tell me this song is about me. Make it up.
I was talking to my 'intern', who allows me to call her that or puffin or butter cup, and I was telling her that I wish I would have moved to New York when I was 21. It seemed like it would have been this exciting, outrageous thing to arrive here at that age. A sat for a minute with the months and then I remembered that I did. I did move to New York when I was 21.
I did move to New York when I was 21. I did learn how to cry without an audience. In the beginning it was all fancy dinners and social climbers, but then I couldn't keep up. I thought we were really doing it for the arts or we were really doing it for the cause or we were doing it for the charities and then a woman who I admired very much told me to apply fake eyelashes and lose fifteen pounds. And I would have loved to, and maybe I did, maybe that did happen. But I still think if I did it, it was for the right reasons. It was to build the well, not to wear the dress.
People talk to me about regrets, about the news, about the economy. Friends act as if they are phoning to let me in on the real world, as if I have cut myself off from some thing that is actually going on. They begin with "have you heard?" and they ask "so what do you think?" and I watch the old ladies cross the street and I am happy that I can record Democracy Now on DVR because lying on the couch and seeing boring faces is the closest I can get to sitting in a car and waiting for the light to turn green.
The voices on the phones, seldom, rarely, I answer-- I don't listen to what they say. I've learned to tune into the AM radio now. If I am lucky I get a preacher all the way from Tennessee and he promises me salvation. "Get out of bed and drink a cup of coffee." And because no one wants to hear about it, because no one wants to pretend the lines on my face are the lines on records, I wipe them off myself. I feel and I believe and perhaps after I've dressed and washed my hair I too will become enraged about all of these scandals. Oh these scandals! Going on right before my eyes. I too will phone to tell the news; I too will think.
http://www.danielascrima.com
Yesterday we had to talk about "Seymour: An Introduction" for two hours &I thought everyone was wrong. Sometimes I have no idea how I can be a lit major because I don't really like to talk about it, I like what it is to me.
Jay's flight got canceled so I poured an extra bowl of dog food, and John's flight got delayed so I talked to him on the phone and you could hear the flight attendants saying to make room under seats and overhead. I am not on an airplane.
I feel like all I do is wash the floor and I am still upset about the dishes in the sink. Maybe I will never stop being upset about the dishes in the sink. I want to live alone so I can have high ceilings and decorate how I like and have things that are mine. My psychiatrist says this is because I am an only child; my psychic says it's because the moon is in my favor this year.
Last night Laura came over and I filled my hair with aqua net. This morning I washed it twice to try and get rid of the smell of smoke. I had water and read more Wally Lamb which I cannot stop reading. Except the book is kind of about the Columbine shootings and it is also kind of very violent and sad. I tried to start it before I went to Florida the last time in December, but I stopped. Now I am almost done and I don't want to be because I like it when books go on forever.
Remember how I told you I bought Cosmopolitan Magazine? Well, it was not good for me to read. Really it says a million terrible things and it asks you to look at your boyfriends dick and see if it's different colors and then on the next page it tells you if you are single this is how you hang a picture on the wall. And I wonder maybe some lady reads this and finds out that their boyfriend's dick is different colors and then just hangs herself instead.
I have to think about packing because it will be warm in Florida. Not warm it will be hot. I bet it will be 90 degrees but with a breeze. If my skin wants to burn I will let it. I say every year that I do not get sunburns because I am half Sicilian. If you've been with me for more than a year then you know the truth, if not then maybe you will see.
I am waiting for Jayme to come back because she is gone. I am waiting for Tuesday because I need to have my hair washed and blown out and then my tarot cards read. Then people from China will stay at my parent's house and I will clean the room that is my room there but not my childhood bedroom and hopefully we will drive.
On Wednesday, we are going to Space Camp. I wonder how long it takes to get there. I remember going for field trips to Cape Canaveral and I was so happy because you could eat astronaut ice cream. It is like Styrofoam kind of, you know?
I am happy about the ocean. I act like I live no where near the Atlantic Ocean. I act like I act like I act like I act like I act like.
Sorry, I am in a fitful mood today. It is Blair's birthday, happy Birthday Blair.
I need to sit back down and finish writing my lists. I will have to wait for Jayme to come back until I can pack. Packing is a puffin party. I watched the last episode of The Girls Next Door and it ruined my life. But hey, I feel fine because another season of The Hills is starting. During the commercial Heidi cries and Spencer punches someone in the face. A lot of times.
I really am this stupid.
My doctor says it's all about iron "you're not getting enough iron, Daniela." I want to ask him if he believes in blood lines but I don't know what kind of question that would be.
I will probably act out for the next ten days, I can feel it strongly in my bones.
things I wanted as a child: a puppy, a swimming pool, siblings
things I've wanted as an adult: a typewriter, a record player, a Mason Pearson hair brush, a room of one's own
My childhood goals did not succeed but now I also have BUDDY who is a puppy/baby/angel and all the things on my adult list. Well. Except I am starting to feel very "A House on Mango Street" about wanting to have a house and it's my house. That and multiples. Twins please. I will say then to some stranger or doctor or women in line at the grocery store "I never got the siblings, but look now i have twins."
Just because it's not a joke, doesn't mean it's not a lie.
the same picture you see every day
respect your breasts
"accidents"
from when the snow storm came
from when I married my iphone
puffins
make my ____ strong _____
where secrets go to die
team who knows
I am creepy
danny &john
the not importance of bras
this was some kind of band somehow somewhere
and something
my BFF
I've gone mad
this was written on the wall when we walked into class last night
